


A Valentine's Treat

by blutopaz15



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, Fluff and Smut, Smut, Valentine's Day, need i say more?, rayllum valentine's, we have rayllum, we have scarves, we have sketches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29418795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blutopaz15/pseuds/blutopaz15
Summary: Rayla forgot about Valentine's Day, but she has a creative way of making it up to Callum.Prompt #1 for #rayllumvalentines on Tumblr!
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Rayllum - Relationship
Comments: 16
Kudos: 58





	A Valentine's Treat

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends!
> 
> Long time, no post!!...or feels like it at least! 3 weeks is a longggg time for me between fics! ;)
> 
> ...and why such a long gap, you may ask? I've been saving up all the fics I've been working on for [Rayllum Valentine's Week](https://raayllum.tumblr.com/post/639588092987195392/hey-everyone-i-thought-with-valentines-day) on Tumblr!
> 
> Please note: The fic below is _definitely_ explicit. They are aged up accordingly. Don't like? Don't read. :)
> 
> It's been a while since I've written any Rayllum smut...but I'm sure some of you all know how much I enjoy writing Rayllum navigating physical intimacy. Almost like slow-burn...but just for the smut part? I guess? This is the only prompt for the week above a T-rating, btw, so if it's not your thing, check back tomorrow!
> 
> First prompt is just...Valentine's Day! (yes, I'm posting at midnight, what of it?) Enjoy! <3

Callum sighed and pretended to pout at Rayla, who was currently reclined back against the door to their room as he fiddled with the key. “I just still _can’t believe_ you didn’t get me anything for Valentine’s Day.”

She scoffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “It’s not _my_ fault that Katolis has, like, a hundred different holidays.” Her lilac eyes rolled to meet his. “ _You’re_ kind of responsible for reminding me about these things, don’t you think?” she snarked, straightening up as the lock clicked open.

“I’m just saying...you didn’t notice all of the streamers? The hearts everywhere?” Callum asked with affected disbelief, just pleased to have a legitimate reason to turn the tables and tease _her_ for a change. The door swung open and, before he could even gesture for her to enter the room, she was breezing past with a good-natured glare, shoving playfully against his shoulder on her way across the room to fulfill the first phase of their nightly bedtime routine.

Messing up her bed before they got into his every night had been her idea originally.

“Appearances, _mage_ ,” she’d smirked the first time she’d ripped her sheets back before bounding across the room to his bed with a giggle, tackling him backward against his pillows and settling in against his chest, which was the second part of their nightly routine.

Now, they’d been keeping up that appearance that they still slept apart for so long, it seemed a shame to let everyone in on the secret, especially because it wasn’t hard to imagine how quickly rumors would spread if an attendant came in once they’d started their day and noticed that—for the first time—Rayla’s bed was still neatly made up. 

Why deal with the embarrassment of everyone _thinking_ that they were sleeping together before they’d even _actually_ slept together when it was so easy to maintain the illusion?

Of course, they did sleep together every night in the strictly _literal_ sense. They’d kept their sleepy snuggling strictly chaste, though. After rumpling her sheets sufficiently, Rayla tucked herself under his arm and under his blankets after the lights were out every evening, pressing her warm form against him, lean everywhere he was allowed to touch in bed but soft at every curve he wasn’t, and...well, he couldn’t say he didn’t _think_ about what it’d be like to _actually_ sleep with her...in the _non_ literal sense.

They’d agreed, though, to keep the kissing—and more importantly, the _touching,_ which there was getting to be a _lot_ of—strictly clothed and strictly vertical. 

So, he was left with just wandering hands in dark castle hallways and his imagination, which—though a potent combination—were getting to be...not enough. 

When her fingers became especially adventurous over his clothes in secluded alcoves around the castle, he had to wonder if she might be getting frustrated too with those contrived limits they’d set a couple of years ago. He wondered if she let her mind run wild the way he did when either of them had the other pressed up against cold, stone palace walls, imagining—for starters—slipping a hand under the hem of her shirt and finding pale, warm flesh under his touch, just as smooth as it was soft. 

He tapped into that imagination now with his eyes falling—naturally—to her backside as he watched her lean over her bed to pull the covers down, drop her blades on her nightstand, and toss her pillow to his bed, each motion arranging her curves in a new formation. He continued to prod her about his missing Valentine’s gift, trying to put off the intrusive impulse to go over and find out if his imagination lined up with reality. 

“You _had_ to have known why they were decorating. You were here for this last year,” he said, mostly succeeding, he thought, at his calm facade...even if his eyes were still drawn to her figure rather than her face.

She plopped down at the edge of her mattress and began to remove her shoes, smirking contentedly all the while. He knew from that look that he’d been caught staring and—more heart-stoppingly—that she _liked_ his staring. A daring glimmer remained flashing in her eyes in shades of lavender, complementing the pink flush that had risen from her neck to her cheeks. 

That look...he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“And the year before,” she pointed out, another boot clattering to the ground, as he dropped his sketchbook clumsily behind him to his desk with a heavy _thump_. His hands grappled blindly to lean back against the flat surface.

“That—” He cleared his throat when his voice came out _way_ more uneven than he’d hoped it would. “That doesn’t help your case.”

“Yeah, well.” Rayla looked away to watch her own fingers delicately twirl a piece of hair, intent, it seemed, on enticing him further as he imagined those same slim fingers working at buttons and slipping beneath waistbands and...his heart thumped a particularly strong beat against his ribs, his arousal growing undeniable. “I knew it was _coming_ _up_...I just didn’t know what day it was.” 

“So, what were you _planning_ on getting me?” he asked with a chuckle that he hoped might disguise the dirty thoughts about _other_ things that her fingers could wrap themselves around.

“Hadn’t decided yet.” She shrugged, and looked back at him with a smoldering sweetness that told him that his staring had, yet again, not gone unnoticed. 

She bit her lip as her eyes fell slowly down to repay him with a stare of her own, looking unabashedly at the increasingly more pronounced bulge pressing against his pant leg. There wasn’t a reason for either of them to be _embarrassed_ about it. They were both _quite_ familiar with the feeling of his arousal pressed against her hip while they made out. She’d even dared to slip her hand between them once or twice, stroking him through too-thick fabric as revenge for the moans that his lips at her neck always produced...but it was still _rare_ for her to acknowledge his obvious erection so brazenly. 

She dropped the lock of hair from her fingers, making his eyes widen as her fingers slowly, deliberately curled back closed against her palm—one, two, three. Apparently out of ways to torture him from afar, she left her bed to meander closer, just within reach.

“And when exactly were you planning on deciding?” Callum asked, decidedly keeping his hands firmly planted on the desk behind him, not trusting what they might do if left to their own devices. Hers threaded through his hair, dragging across his scalp before stilling and settling at the back of his neck, every point of contact leaving a warm tingle along his skin.

“Shut up,” she scoffed with a playful eye-roll. After a glance to his lips, she seemed to stop herself from leaning in to deliver a kiss, her eyes instead growing half-lidded and her mouth curling into an even more devious smirk than before. “You know...I think I know how I can make it up to you.”

“Yeah?” He shivered when one of her hands gently trailed along the edge of his collar, fingers first drifting around to rest against his throat, pausing a moment to undo the button there, then tumbling down to his chest. She pulled his hand from the desk behind him to her waist. “How’s that?” he choked out.

“I want you to draw me,” she breathed, bringing her lips to his cheek. Her fingers, having woven themselves around the fabric of his scarf, gave an abrupt downward yank against the red fabric. Callum inhaled sharply, thinking that maybe the familiar sensation would be followed by her lips on his, but, instead, she continued to speak, laying another kiss just under his ear as she unwound the scarf from his neck. 

“Wearing this...” She coiled the scarf around herself as soon as it was fully in her possession, her breath leaving her parted lips in a warm puff that tickled against his cheek between her kisses along his jaw.

“...and _only_ this.” 

The thought—no... _promise_ —of Rayla _naked_ in front of him, covered _just barely_ by _his_ scarf, was enough—Sky arcanum be damned, _apparently_ —to force the air from his lungs. 

He was surprised that her eyes were shy and searching when she pulled away to gauge his reaction. He’d expected her to look as bold as she sounded. He ordered himself to breathe so that he could choke out a response, finding eye contact difficult as well.

“Oh. Uhm...if, uh…” Her lips pulled into a smile again, apparently amused and immediately reassured by his nervous stuttering. He fumbled for words, attempting—and failing—to ignore the boner she was _clearly_ encouraging. Knowingly, she drifted closer, her hips connecting with his. “If you’re sure you want me to see your, uhm…

“My what?” She batted her eyes at him with mock-innocence and shifted her weight to remind him of his arousal pressing against her.

He tried again to form a complete sentence. “I mean, if you’re okay with me seeing you, uh…”

“Naked?” Rayla chuckled, her palms pressing flat against his chest before running across to his shoulders. “Well...I won’t be _completely_ naked,” she teased, clearly _very_ _much_ at ease with her suggestion. 

“My, uh...my scarf won’t cover _that_ much, Rayla,” he stammered, managing a nervous chuckle and an _actual_ complete sentence, but still unable to hold her gaze.

She pressed closer still, her elbows resting on his shoulders now. At first, he found himself wishing that she’d already taken off the harsh outer layer of armor, wanting the familiar warmth of her body pressed flush against his chest, limited only by thin layers of cloth between them. He quickly revised his wish, though, based on all these new possibilities she’d opened up, daring to hope, instead, that maybe she’d be pressing her _naked_ form to his soon. 

Did it count as touching if he kept his hands to himself?

He wondered what this meant for their _agreement_.

It crossed his mind that maybe she really did intend for him to _just_ draw her. That’d be okay, he thought, eager at the thought of being allowed to lay eyes—even if not hands—on her bare skin. More imagination fuel, at least. 

He gulped before finishing his thought, forcing himself to look her straight in the eye now that he had breathing and complete sentences down. “So, uh, I think I’ll still get—you know—an _eye full_.”

“That’s the point,” she said with a cheery shrug of her shoulders. Her teasing softened into the reassurance of a gentle smile, and her thumbs began to trace little circles along his collarbone. “Kiss me first,” she insisted, sweetness replacing the sass in her stare. 

He followed her direction, finding her lips against his gentler than he’d been anticipating. Given the flirtatious and daring slant to her attentions since they’d entered the room, he’d been expecting her to be frenzied, tongue shoving desperately against his and fingers immediately knotting into his hair, but, instead, her kiss was simpler. _Softer_ . _Just_ as effective, though. Just as _intoxicating_. His hands fell to the small of her back.

He had to wonder exactly how calculated this cool and collected kiss was. How could this _not_ be carefully orchestrated? The soft pressure of her mouth on his...the little teasing flicks and laps of her tongue against his lip...the way her hands settled lightly at his hips...the pleasant combination of her scent at his nose and her taste on his tongue...and nothing but Rayla on his mind. 

He’d almost forgotten how turned on he was, too busy reveling in that gentle kiss, until her hand connected with his hardness and she ended the kiss with a light nip at his bottom lip.

“You do actually want to draw me like that, right?” She breathed, her forehead resting against his. She flinched away when he sputtered with laughter, but her bemused squinting was pretty quickly replaced with a lopsided smile. 

He gestured to where her hand still lingered, her thumb taunting him with tentative strokes against his cock. “Gee, I dunno, Rayla! You tell me,” he teased. 

“Fair point,” she shrugged, letting the rest of her fingers trace the same path as her thumb before stepping back and starting to remove the bracers around her wrists.

The scarf part of her offer—he thought, incredulous that this was _actually about to happen_ —was _probably_ actually about preserving some shred of modesty...right?

“Should I…” Callum indicated over his shoulder with his thumb, heartbeat quickened as she dropped the first two pieces of fabric to the floor. 

“Lock the door? _Probably_ a good idea,” she nodded, dropping her hooded outer layer to the ground now. She reached to her sides to pull at the ties that held her armor in place.

“Oh. Right,” he said, tearing himself away to take a couple steps to the door and turn the lock. “What I meant, though, was...should I turn around?” 

She rolled her eyes as she shrugged the heavy material over her head. “Uhh...why, exactly?”

“Right,” he agreed, his hand nervously finding the back of his neck as he nodded along, still not quite believing that she was _actually_ about to strip herself bare in front of him. He gulped, watching the way the tight teal of her undershirt pulled along every curve as she moved. “Right. Good point.” 

“Hold this.” She held the scarf out to him again. 

_Right_ , he thought, just to himself this time. Probably difficult to take off clothes as form-fitting as hers were while working around a scarf. 

She didn’t let go right away once he’d reached for it, though, her hands lingering until his eyes met hers, bright with that daring sense of mischief again. “Now, watch,” she said, all of the flirtation and heat returned to her voice.

She dropped the scarf into his hands before stepping away again, closer to the center of the room now. 

He didn’t dare blink.

He pressed his lips together to keep his jaw from hanging open, as she continued to stare him down with that saucy look, breaking eye contact only to lift her shirt over her head. He’d seen that flat surface of her stomach before, of course, but he let his eyes hungrily take in every detail of the sight like he hadn’t before—the swell of her hips, the indentation of her navel just below her waist, the tight circumference of her middle… His stare ended up fixed along the line where her breasts—full and bound tightly in place against her chest—spilled over _just_ the tiniest bit beyond the wrappings that still covered them. He bit his bottom lip, his attention split between the taut fabric just barely hiding her bare skin beneath and the taut fabric below his hips that his arousal grew against.

He wasn’t sure if she was consciously copying his expression, but when he looked up to check that she was still feeling cocky and confident about stripping in front of him, her lip was caught beneath her teeth too. Her fingers worked at some secret knot at her back and she let the light fabric fall to the floor when it was untied, her blush reddening as the tiniest nod told him to look. His cock throbbed—almost uncomfortably now—when her hands pressed against her alabaster breasts before following a slow path across her stomach and to her waistband. He watched intently, imagining his hands following the same route...the pleasant heat of bare skin under his fingers heightening the sensation of her breasts in his hands...her pink nipples hardened against his palms...

She turned before he’d fully committed the new sight to memory, and he couldn’t believe that he’d actually let out the complaint that left his throat unbidden about his now-obstructed view.

“Ray—”

“Hush,” she said, cutting him off. Her hair swept across her spine as she looked back at him over her shoulder, her smile confident but her giggle a little shy. The blush spreading to the tips of her ears now was telling too, but, just as soon as his heart had melted, seeing that she _was_ —at least _a little_ —nervous like he was, the enticing bravado was back. “I said, _watch_.” 

It was honestly _unfair_ how _alluring_ she could make something like taking off pants look, knots of muscle tensing along her back as she moved her hips side to side, inching the waist of her pants and underclothes down little by little, until he could see not only the bare curve of her hips but the pale, blush-tinged, flawless roundness of her ass—even _more_ perfect than he could’ve possibly imagined—too. It couldn’t have been comfortable or natural the way she bent over as she stepped out of those last couple of pieces of clothing, but he couldn’t say he didn’t appreciate the view or the cheeky glimmer that came with it.

That view, though, just made it all the harder to resist his wanting to reach out and touch her...to close the space between them and spin her around and pull her close by that beautiful bare skin so that every warm curve was pressed right up against him when she reached her hand between them again, maybe even to find _his_ bare skin and… 

He sucked in a ragged breath when she turned to face him, wondering if she’d be able to notice with just a glance how much harder the thought had made him.

Kicking the pile of clothes at her feet out of her way, Rayla stepped within an arm’s reach and held out her hand. She nodded coyly to his scarf, her other arm passing across the patch of white hair below her hips. 

His breath shook on its way out too, while he wondered what it’d be like if she’d let her fingers linger there...wondered what it’d be like if _his_ fingers were allowed to linger there.

He paused in that thought and decided against placing the scarf in her open hand. 

“Can I?” he dared to ask, holding it up to her instead. She crossed her arms again, her breasts pushed together and tempting him to touch. She shifted her weight over one hip.

“I said _draw_ , not _touch,_ Callum,” she scolded. He would’ve guessed by her tone alone that she was kidding, but she shook her head and he wasn’t sure if that meant he was right or if it meant that he was totally wrong. He opened his mouth to accept her response, but her voice came first, accompanied by another sly smirk. “You have five seconds.”

Callum made short work of draping the scarf back around her neck, but only let his hands drift innocently to the naked flesh of her shoulders once it was in place, made hesitant about any more touching than that given her (faux?) reluctance. Before Rayla had even counted to three, though, her fingers were on his, guiding them under the loop of red fabric to cup her breasts in his hands. He watched her and her flushed face carefully as he dared a gentle squeeze, and she looked back unflinchingly, her stare serious but sparkling with the hint of a smile. The long second that passed before her counts of “three” and “four” was nothing compared to the space between “four” and “five,” her hands encouraging his fingers pressing and caressing against the perfect, pliant softness, as warm and smooth and full-feeling in his care as he’d predicted. She hummed an approving sigh when his thumb grazed across an erect nipple. As she uttered the last number, she pulled his hands down, along her sides, to her hips.

“Oh, look at that!” she started, a playful lilt in her voice, as she made a show of removing his hands from her skin, with delicate fingers lifting his arms away by the wrists. “Time’s up!” she smirked. He pursed his lips and let his shoulders sag, matching her impish glee with dramatics of his own.

“That’s... _evil,_ Rayla,” he whined. A smug look accompanied the kiss she placed _much_ too innocently to the tip of his nose. He noted with frustration that his scarf—which he usually liked _very much_ for her to wear—was getting in the way of his desire to commit her naked form to memory. 

“Well, maybe if I like your drawing, you can do it again,” she crossed her arms again and shrugged, reminding him that she was gifting him with _plenty_ of time to memorize every inch. Her weight shifted over the other hip this time. “Now then, where do you want me?” she asked.

Did...did she _realize_ how _dirty_ that sounded? _Or maybe that was just him_ , he considered, his awareness of his arousal sliding sharply into focus again.

“Want...want you?” he blurted out, suppressing another nervous laugh, as all of the places he’d imagined her undressed flooded his thoughts—against his body, lying beneath him, maybe bent over the desk he was still leaning against, maybe... _maybe_ even on her _knees_ in front of him... 

He watched it dawn on her that where he _actually_ wanted her was not the same as the answer she’d been looking for, the twinkle in her eye coming with another deep blush.

“To pose, dummy,” she groaned, rolling her eyes. He hoped reaching for her was okay, as nude and as flustered as she was. She looked at him grumpily after his miserable excuse for teasing, but took the offer of his extended hand. He got a bashful smile in return when he squeezed his fingers around hers. “Where?” she asked again quietly, sounding like nerves had stolen her breath now.

“Wherever you want, Rayla,” he said, surprised that his voice had stopped shaking, his own nerves stemmed by giving her what little reassurance she seemed to need. He pulled her hand to his lips and the look she gave him was not _heated_ , but just... _warm_. “Wherever’s comfortable,” he muttered against her fingers. 

“I’ll need that back,” she giggled when he continued pressing kisses over each knuckle. 

Once he’d let go, something about the nonchalant way she padded away from him, seemingly no longer so preoccupied with enticing him, made his heart swell. It was the vulnerability, he thought, as he watched his lovely and daring Rayla lounge across her bed, her blush (almost) undetectable, her smile comfortable, entirely at ease with giving him this intimacy.

“Like this okay?” she asked, reclined on her side and tossing the end of his scarf over her bare shoulder.

“Beautiful,” he sighed when she looked to him for an answer, knowing before he’d even said it that she’d make fun.

“Sap,” she scoffed, then gestured to his sketchbook on the desk behind him still. “Well?”

Callum picked up the heavy book and sat across from her on his bed, resting the open sketchbook against his knees as he began to scratch away at the part of the picture he knew best.

Drawing her biting her lip like that was new, though, and he wasn’t quite sure if he could capture the heat that had bloomed again across both her cheeks and up along the tips of her ears...and—less subtly—in her eyes. That heated look pulled his attention quickly back to his arousal, growing even more rigid in anticipation of committing every last one of Rayla’s curves to paper.

She’d guessed where he’d start and knew where he’d be moving onto next. The arm she’d let fall against her waist drifted to her chest, her pointer finger lazily running circles around one nipple, then the other. Callum found his hand frozen against the parchment, fiery warmth pooling in his cheeks, as the temptation to abandon the sketch and replace her fingers with his grew.

“Do you...do you want me to draw you doing that?” he coughed. A single corner of Rayla’s mouth pulled up into another smirk, a torturously alluring glint returning to her eyes as she tugged on the scarf to make sure he had a clear view of both breasts. Callum swallowed thickly.

“Up to you. It’s _your_ Valentine’s present,” she shrugged, letting her fingers do more than drift now against her bare skin. “Draw,” she instructed with a shamelessly breathy sigh.

Callum forced his eyes to the page, tracing her outline before adding the curved and flawless semi-circles that showed the fullness of her breasts to his sketch. He was only barely aware of the way his tongue poked out from the corner of his mouth. The more detailed his illustration of her chest grew, the more his awareness of her fingers stroking along her flawless skin did too. He scratched out the angle at which her wrist bent her hand to one perfect, blush-colored peak, covering her nakedness completely with her palm as she caressed—less delicately now.

His impatience won out over attention-to-detail as he hurried to absorb the image of every last curve the way that only drawing allowed him to, leaving the lines rough and unfinished. His eyes eagerly followed across her silhouette to the pronounced dip of her waist, and he found it easy to illustrate the place his fingers most often found themselves when not tangled up with hers. Callum’s gaze continued to find the flare of her hips, his fingers pushing the charcoal on its path along her side. He’d drawn that swell plenty of times before.

“Hey, Callum?” she murmured, bringing his sketching to a halt with the way she was fully chewing on her lip now, her face having grown even more flushed while his attention had been elsewhere. He flickered back to her hand that had been her breast, as it fluttered tentatively back past her waist, across the pale stretch of her stomach, settling at last where her legs met. “About the touching…”

Rayla lifted a knee and air hissed in through her lips as Callum watched, mesmerized, as her fingers dipped between her legs. She watched not the slow strokes of her hand, but _him,_ as her finger traced a tiny circle, barely hidden from view by the silvery white hair below her hips.

“Wanna help?” she breathed, her brow knitting across her forehead, the question a little desperate. 

His sketchbook snapping shut set off a blur of motion that left him kneeling at her bedside in seconds, a hand tentatively reaching for her bare waist before settling at her cheek instead.

“Eager, huh?” she laughed. Her hand below her hips didn’t hesitate the way he thought it might with him so close. Instead, she angled her chin to capture his lips against hers, sighing contentedly as her arm continued to gently sway with the movement of her fingers.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, leaning his forehead against her brow and floating a finger along the marking at her cheek. She covered that hand with her own.

“Here,” she whispered against his lips. His eyes followed as she pushed his hand to her breast, and he finally, _finally_ took her breasts in his hands recklessly, his palms groping greedily at the soft flesh he’d been so desperate to touch without reservation. He turned to watch his hands press into the soft skin, so warm and malleable against his fingers, but caught instead the sight of Rayla slipping a solitary finger not just between the folds that hid her sex but _inside_ herself. She moaned, her breath hot against the back of his neck. “Kiss me, Callum. _Please,_ ” she begged as her hips pressed forward against her hand, her finger delving inside once again. He gasped her name in return.

As much as he wanted to keep watching her finger disappear over and over, imagining that it was _his_ finger, or—even better—his cock thrusting against her, he obeyed her breathless plea and kissed her, trying desperately to give her all he had, coaxing her into his mouth to feel the slick pleasure of their tongues sliding against each other while he caressed her breasts with the same sort of gentle pressure he’d watched her apply.

She gasped his name again when they parted, her eyes pressed shut and her mouth shaped into an absolutely rapturous smile. He used the break in their kiss to sneak another glance, first at the way the flesh of her breasts spilled over between his fingers and then at the way her fingers—two now—had picked up speed, pushing inside deeper than the last time he’d looked. He ran his thumb across her nipple and felt a shiver run through her body.

She choked out an offer between the wanting groans that left her lips. “Do you want to—you could touch yourself too, if you want.”

His cock throbbed against the ever-tightening fabric across his groin. He’d been so wrapped up in all of her gasping and moaning and thrusting, he hadn’t even _considered_ that she’d want such a thing. His eyes snapped back to her face as he let his own desire flame through his veins. The offer alone had been enough to give himself permission to desperately _, desperately_ want a release of his own.

“Right now?” He felt his eyebrows rise. 

Her eyelashes fluttered when her eyes opened, her lilac stare hazy and taking time to focus on him. She gave an approving nod and tugged him nearer by the collar. “Right now.” She made room for him next to her as he shed layers until he was bare-chested. He followed her gaze down between their bodies once he was settled at her side and watched her fingers shift rhythm, rubbing again instead of thrusting.

“Go on,” she whispered before he could kiss her again. Pink-cheeked and panting from her hand’s steady work, she looked when he pushed his waistband down and freed his erection from the constricting fabric that had covered it. He definitely recognized the hunger in her eyes when she looked back up at him, but the other sparkle was new...at least in this context. Curiosity, maybe? She pressed herself closer and glanced down again as he wrapped his hand around his stiffened member and started to stroke himself. 

“Keep going, Rayla,” he breathed, seeing how her fingers had slowed. His voice shook in the space between their lips. “Don’t...don’t worry about me.” Callum said, certain without even having _seen_ her properly get off yet that it’d be _more_ than enough to make him come too. 

He watched her fingers, coated and glistening with her wetness, slip back inside and felt his cock harden even more in his hand. He wrapped his fingers a little tighter around his rigid and hot length and sighed at the same moment she did. After a slow, deep stroke, her fingers reached their limit inside before she immediately dragged them back to her opening, and he made his hand match her pace, mirroring her as the rhythm of her thrusts steadily quickened.

Propped up by an elbow, he leaned over her and, as she continued touching herself in precise and expert strokes, he nudged his scarf to the side with his chin so he could work his lips at her pulse point just as expertly, kissing and biting and even dragging his tongue along the underside of her jaw the way she liked when he had her cornered. She whimpered when he sucked at that sensitive stretch of flesh, her free hand gripped tightly in his hair, and, even without looking, he could sense the pace of her hand between her legs growing more frantic, feeling her neck trembling under his lips, and he stroked himself with equal speed.

His name tore from her throat, and he laid a gentle kiss to the hickey his nipping had produced. “Callum,” she repeated, “I’m about to—”

“I love you, Rayla,” he muttered, hot breath against her ear now. He let his tongue wander to the pointed tip and felt her start to shudder, much more wildly than the way she _normally_ shook with his mouth at her ear. He tore his hand away from his own arousal that was threatening to bubble over into oblivion to bring a sweet and encouraging hand back to her breast, remembering how she’d shivered under his touch moments ago. He passed a thumb over her nipple before beginning to caress again—daring, even, to roll the pink nub between his fingers. “Go ahead.”

As soon as he spoke, he felt her whole body seize up under his touch. “C-Callum, I—y-yes!” she cried out part way through her ecstasy when he replaced his tongue at her ear with his teeth. Then, without even a hint of inhibition, she was quivering under his lips and writhing under his touch, letting her hips roll against her hand as she came. 

Her moans settled gradually into hushed sighs as her body stilled, and he waited for her breathing to settle too, patient with gentle kisses to her collarbone. As desperately as he wanted to use the hand that had been at her breast to chase his own release, something felt right about lazily letting his fingers drift along her upper arm instead to watch more evidence of her comfort and vulnerability as she—pink-cheeked and chest heaving—came down from the wave of pleasure.

More quickly than he’d anticipated, though, she withdrew her hand from between her legs to press him onto his back with gentle—but wet—fingers at his shoulder. He sucked in a breath in uneven gasps.

“I had a head start,” she chuckled, her lips finding his neck as she leaned across his chest. “Your turn,” she murmured, her breasts pressed against his side. 

She trailed those wet fingers down from shoulder, to elbow, to wrist, encouraging him to grasp again at his hardened cock, though she didn’t touch him there herself. The thick scent of her sex that lingered on her fingers forced a shudder from him when her hand floated back up to his cheek to pull his lips to hers, her tongue stroking along his with as much fervent insistence as he’d shown her. She nipped at his bottom lip before her mouth drifted from his and moved to his jaw, echoing his earlier ministrations at her neck.

“Rayla…” he groaned when she started in on returning the hickey right away, her humid breath and insistent nibbling almost as hot as the dark chuckle she let out next to his ear at his immediate and enthusiastic reaction. Her teeth found his neck at the same moment she pulled on his hair, and he gasped her name again, his free hand pressing at the nape of her neck to keep her close.

He let his hand pump as rapidly as it’d been just before she started to lose it and even let his hips buck the way hers had, letting go entirely to thrust into his hand with abandon. He couldn’t decide which was a better image—replaying in his mind the show of uninhibited pleasure she’d just put on for him or looking down at her bare back and behind cozied up next to him now. She lifted her head, though, and he didn’t have to decide, because she looked him dead in the eye, her lilac stare narrowed and hazy as her fingers threaded—more lovingly now—through his hair. 

“ _Rayla_ ,” he gasped. In hindsight, he wished he’d had the clarity to give her this same incredibly sensual look when she’d been calling _his_ name. 

“Love you, too, by the way,” she said, her smile just as sweet as it was sultry. Her eyes left his just after, though, so her lips could find his neck and her fingers could find his hair again. She muttered into his ear: “Come for me, Callum.”

The only embarrassing part, he decided, of coming undone like that in front of Rayla, was the way he couldn't control the grunts and groans that spilled from his lips, growing _so_ much louder than he _ever_ was in private. 

She had him panting and shaking, just the way she’d done, in no time. His typical tight, quick strokes along his cock in combination with her teeth and tongue trailing along his jaw and her hands knotting in his hair and pulling against his scalp made short work of his pleasure, breathless tension building and building until a shuddering release replaced the wanting with warm relaxation instead.

It was a _little_ embarrassing, too, he decided, that his cum had fallen not only across his stomach, but all over her hip too. Despite the way she’d jolted in surprise at first, though, she didn’t seem to mind, judging by how she’d just relaxed down against him once he’d stilled. She left her face buried against his neck, her nude form still pressed all along his side.

He caught his breath and took a moment to appreciate the fact that he could wrap his arm around her waist and feel bare, smooth skin there.

“That was...a _really good_ present,” he chuckled after a moment of stillness. 

“Good.” She nodded against the side of his neck, kissing there in the sweet way she did when they cuddled at night. Her knee looped over his. “A special treat for...what’d you say earlier? For my valentine?” 

“Special treat?” he asked, thoughts drifting back to what this... _development_ would mean for their long-standing agreement about acceptable horizontal activities.

“Oh, yes,” she said before leaning up on an elbow to look at him. “We can’t go breaking the rules _all_ the time, can we?” she questioned, swiping his hair across his forehead and to the side.

“I mean...clearly, we _could_ ,” he shrugged, contented in _so_ many ways by the intimacy and love and vulnerability they’d just given to each other...and definitely sure to soon be hungry for more. Not that he’d push it—of course not. Now, though, he at least didn’t have to use his imagination for _some_ pieces of his fantasies.

“Hush,” she snickered. “Now, go get dressed and finish that sketch.” 

“That wasn’t a _no,_ ” he figured with a sliver of hope. She returned his lopsided smirk and struck a light tap against his shoulder in a half-hearted indication that she was ignoring his comment...and that he should get up.

“Draw,” she ordered again. She rolled her eyes and gestured with a wave of her hand to the mess below their waists as he stood. “You’ll need it for the next time you do... _that_.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Come be friends on tumblr!](https://blutopaz15.tumblr.com/) :)


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